


Scenes In Between

by MurderousPastry



Category: Seven Psychopaths (2012)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Pretty much just Sex, no redeeming features, straight up smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderousPastry/pseuds/MurderousPastry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a moment caught between moments. Marty and Billy enjoy each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scenes In Between

**Author's Note:**

> This is porn. I have no excuses. This is fucking porn. Enjoy.

Marty kissed Billy’s neck, his shoulder. Slid down and mouthed warm and moist at the lines of his stomach. Smiled at Billy’s broken moan when he realized what was coming next.

Marty knew he had a bit of an oral fixation. Billy’d said something once, pointedly, about how it might be from all the _fuckin’ drinking._ Whatever. Marty just knew he liked to have things in his mouth. Pens, straws, fingers. And Billy’s cock. _Especially_ Billy’s cock. Billy’s cock in particular.

Speaking of. Marty rasped his tongue up it in one long, wet stroke, making Billy’s breath stutter, then took just the head into his mouth, sucking it, teasing it with tiny little licks. Encouraged by the soft whine Billy let out, Marty slid down, pushing his cock farther into his mouth, down his throat. Then, flattening his hands on Billy’s hips, holding him in place, Marty really went to work on him.

God, he really fucking loved this. The salt-musky taste. The way his mouth stretched, the slow friction. Having Billy completely under his power like he did right now, red-faced and squirming helplessly like he was about to climb out of his own fucking skin with how good it felt.

 _“Fuck,”_ Billy blurted out when Marty pulled off a particularly complex maneuver with his tongue, his hips bucking up in response. Marty’s grip held firm, though. This was his show. He was in control. To give Billy a little reminder of that he let his teeth out to play a bit, grazing at the sensitive sides of his cock. Billy _keened._

Marty smirked. Billy wasn’t thinking about _anything_ at the moment, not a single goddamn one of those million insane thoughts was going towards anything other than what Marty was doing to him. Billy was always like that with him, easy to please, easy to drive up the wall. Marty’d never been with anyone else who responded to him like that, like Billy loved _everything_ if Marty was the one doing it. It was electrifying. Fucking _addictive_.

Marty’s cock was already hard, had been for some time but now it _twitched_ as he wondered just how many things he could get Billy to do, if he was in the mood to be controlling. Could he make him scream? Beg? Say his name until his voice went hoarse?

File that away for another time. Marty pushed his head down again, hard, and Billy’s cock slid in all the way finally. Pleased, Marty hummed around it and listened to the strangled noise Billy made, involuntary and owned. Marty chanced a look up and fuck, Billy was _gorgeous_ right now, his eyes hazy and dark, his blond hair sticking out every which way, his skin flushed and his lips bitten red. World’s most beautiful mess.

_I did that. I made you look like that._

That sucker-punched him right where it counted, and on a wave of urgency Marty took Billy’s hand and placed it on his head so he could feel it, fucking _feel_ it when Billy started to come apart and he attacked him then, a take-no-prisoners assault with his mouth, hard and fast and wet and merciless.

Billy honest to God _whimpered_ under him, his hand fisting up in Marty’s hair just like he knew it would, and then “Marty, I’m gonna, I’m gonna--“ his voice rasping and dark, _fucked out._

And Marty found it endearing that Billy still warned him, like he didn’t know by now that Marty wanted to _taste,_ wanted to feel him come up close and personal, inside him. So he answered by pushing him in deep and swallowing, hard.

And that was enough, more than enough, Billy’s hand clenched up the best kind of pain in his hair and his cock spasmed in his mouth and flooded earthy-salt-heat down the back of his throat and there was that voice of his again, wrecked, “Fuck-oh-fuck- _Marty_ ,” and Marty just worked him through it, steady, until the shudders stopped and Billy’s fingers eased their grip on his hair and his body grew loose and pliant beneath him.

Marty drew himself up on his knees then, and wiped the corner of his mouth with a thumb while he looked at Billy, sweaty and warm and heavy-lidded, staring at him like he was the greatest fucking thing ever. Marty smiled, satisfied.

Maybe that was what did it, because suddenly Billy grabbed him, dragged him down, rolled him over on his back and kissed him feverishly, licking into his mouth and tasting himself on Marty’s tongue. Billy’s hand trailed down Marty’s stomach and he whispered against his mouth, “Let me, let me,” and his hand closed over Marty’s cock-- _fuck_ , Marty’d almost forgotten how hard he was, and Billy’s long thin fingers felt fucking perfect, stroking him slow at first, torturingly slow. Loose and light and teasing, smirking when Marty’s hips stuttered up into the touch, a helpless silent plea. Billy liked taking Marty apart, too. Liked making him ask for it.

Marty wasn’t in the fucking mood for it. His eyes fell half-shut and he said, _“Please,”_ desperately, and Billy complied with only that single bit of begging, paused to lick his hand and then went at him fast, hard, determined. In a startling contrast he kissed Marty sweet and soft, achingly affectionate, his lips warm and perfect and his free hand cradling Marty’s face.

Caught between the two extremes, all Marty could do was kiss him back blindly, wind his arms around Billy’s back, pull him more firmly on top of him. His body was already one aching mass of heat and shivers and _need_ , wanton, and when Billy broke off the kiss to stare down at him Marty knew what he must look like.

“Goddamn,” Billy whispered hoarsely. _“Marty.”_

He was strung taut, shuddering, his hands winding into Billy’s hair, his thumbs stroking the sides of his face, beneath those awestruck eyes. “Please,” Marty said again, though this time he wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

Billy’s face darkened with a heat Marty was very familiar with, a _hungry_ heat, and suddenly he was mouthing at Marty’s neck, searching out those places that brought tingles to the surface, and this one spot in particular--a spot that Billy’d discovered on his own long since, this fucking _wild_ spot- and he found it, and swiped at it with his tongue, marking it with a swathe of warmth, then his teeth closed on it and he sucked, hard, marking it in a different, much more possessive way and just as Marty let out this broken groan his hand tightened on his cock and _twisted._

And that groan turned into a cry as Marty came hard, the darkness behind his eyes turning into dancing lights and his body clenching up with the force of it, messy and brutal and God, so fucking _good,_ and Billy just kept pulling more and more of it out of him with every movement of his mouth on Marty’s neck and his hand on his cock, until finally Marty’s hands released their death grip on Billy’s shoulders and he went limp, spent.

They lay there for a minute after, Marty unable to move and Billy unwilling, a warm welcome weight on top of him, his face resting on Marty’s neck, his breath feathering a spot of heat against Marty’s pulse. Quiet, peaceful.

“Did I ever tell you you sound kinda like a chick when you come?” Billy asked.

Marty snorted. He rolled them both to their sides, unceremoniously. “See if I ever suck _you_ off again,” he said, without any real rancor.

“Right. Like you can keep your mouth off my cock,” Billy said, with no small trace of smugness.

Marty rolled his eyes. “Shut up and cuddle me so we can go to sleep.”

Billy smiled in that way he had--Marty didn’t think he’d ever be able to figure out what it was about it he loved so much- and pulled him in. Marty settled with his head on Billy’s shoulder, their arms around each other and Billy’s fingers tracing slow sleepy patterns on his back, the blankets bunched around them. His mind hazing into sleep, Marty listened to the steady, familiar sound of Billy’s heartbeat. One hand briefly detached itself from around Billy’s waist and touched the middle of his chest, as if seeking reassurance.

Finding it, Marty relaxed fully, and curled back into his original position. All was well. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.


End file.
